


Tyluma

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, How Do I Tag, LietPol Week 2018, M/M, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: -written for day 3 of lietpol week: silence-





	Tyluma

"Liet, which one is my towel?"  
Poland is waiting for an answer that does not come. He looks for his boyfriend from the slight opening of the door, but there is no sign of him.  
He stares once again at the identical white towels hanging next to the shower. He knows that Liet is... _peculiar_ , about those things. Should he just take the risk?  
" _Liet_!", he tries to speak louder and open the door, " _I am freezing here!_ "  
The only sound he can hear is Dynia's little bell as she walks through the house.  
Now, he actually is starting to get worried. This _silence_ is usually a bad sign.

Liet doesn't know, but he noticed it tonight- the nightmares haunting his sleep again.  
He heard his muffled cries for help. He felt his body tensing up, and his hands shaking.

  
Poland grabs the first towel he can find and wraps it under his shoulders, and quickly walks out of the bathroom to check the rest of the house.  
He opens the door; Lithuania is not in the bedroom.  
His feet leave wet prints all over the floor (and _oh, Liet is going to so get on his ass for it later_ -) as he walks over to the living room.  
He is not there. Dynia, however, is staring at him from the top of the bookshelf.  
"Dynia, where's dad?"  
The cat's only response is a slight tilt of her head.  
"The kitchen, you're right!", Poland politely replies, "Thanks, girl! You're always so helpful."  
For a moment, he smiles at the cat. That's the last room in this small apartment, anyway...  
He walks to the kitchen and sure enough, there is Lithuania, eating a slice of plain toast for breakfast and looking out of the window. The quiet atmosphere of the room, the stillness in which Lithuania is standing is almost like a painting, a fresco on the dome of an ancient cathedral.  
It's a sunny day in Kaunas, and the rays that filter through the window make his messy brown hair almost glow in the light; a golden halo encircling it.  
And Poland thinks, there is something almost divine about the solemn and gentle green of his eyes, the green of the linden trees and endless pine forests of his land.  
A feeling of nostalgia suddenly washes over him- his gaze, the way he is silently looking outside. It's a gaze that brings back memories, memories that make his heart flutter.

The clear picture of a Sunday morning in the chapel of an opulent palace, of the way a young man was watching the golden and marble altar intently, in silence. A simple prayer, to the eye of a careless beholder. But Poland knew that Lithuania was not speaking to God. He was thinking, again, about a time long gone: his land and his people and the Gods he had left behind.  
And yes, he remembered the best part- the warm ache in his own chest, the way that Feliks' soul was just drawn to him! Lithuania in that moment had become the only thing that mattered in the room, in the entire world. His very own saint, his personal idolatry!  
It was that, the memory, the clear feeling of the way he had looked at him through the eyes of love for the first time.

"Tolys."  
Lithuania suddenly looks at him; and as he notices his presence, he removes an earbud from his ear that was hidden by his long hair.  
" _O viešpatie..._  what the hell! Po, why are you using my _hand_ towel like that?"  
Poland does not respond- instead, he throws himself at his boyfriend's shoulders and holds him tight, as tight as he can.  
"Liet, who cares about the towel!", he whispers into Lithuania's ear. " _Kochanie_ , you were not answering me. I thought you were having..."  
"Another breakdown?"  
Poland doesn't respond, but Lithuania knows that his silence means _yes_.  
"Feliks, I'm fine."  
He runs his calloused hand through Poland's wet hair, and Feliks just sighs, resting his head softly on his shoulder. "I was worried-"  
"I know", Lithuania interrupts him, "but I'm ok, you see? _I love you_."

They stand like that, holding each other in the warmth of the morning sun.  
And the atmosphere in the small apartment is once again quiet, and still, but this time it's ok. Poland knows- _as long as we are together like this, it's going to be ok._


End file.
